


Round Two

by SirRobin126



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: A little bit of angst, Deep and Meaningful, Drinking, Drinking Games, Established Relationship, Harry's an angsty bitch what can i say, Interruption, Joe West is a protective dad to everyone in his vicinity, M/M, Set during season 4, Sort Of, a sprinkling of sadness, drink responsibly kids, mostly comedy and romance tho, secrets and lies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 14:14:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16599440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirRobin126/pseuds/SirRobin126
Summary: Barry's first bachelor party didn't turn out so well, so of course Cisco decided to throw him another one. As this far more low-key evening is winding down, a drinking game turns the conversation onto Harry's 'type' and at least one person at the party is very interested in his answer.





	Round Two

Ralph Dibny staggered to his feet, his eyelids drooping and his lanky frame refusing to listen to his drunken commands.

“Barry’s turn!” He announced, so loudly it made Cisco wince and drag himself to the other side of the loose circle they’d made on the floor of Joe’s living room. Barry laughed and clapped Cisco on the shoulder as he moved closer.

“My turn? What was the question this round?” He asked.

“Come on Rookie, you’re killing me here. I’m trying to liven this gig up and you’re not even keeping your head in the game!”

Joe made a shushing motion with his finger, trying unsuccessfully to quell Ralph’s increasing volume. “May I remind you the last time you tried to liven things up it ended with us all in prison?”

“Not all of us, Detective West.”

Ralph jumped and turned to look at Harry, who’d silently appeared behind him. He pressed a glass of clear liquid into Ralph’s hands and brushed roughly past him; settling himself on Cisco’s other side, and gently brushing shoulders with him before making a conscious effort to leave a bit of space between them.

“The question, as I was about to inform you before I was so rudely interrupted,” Ralph paused to glare imperiously at both Joe and Harry, “was what is your type?”

He finished the question with a characteristic flourish before collapsing back onto the sofa.

“My type?” Barry repeated, trying to stall his answer, or perhaps just trying to struggle through the haze of his special Barry-alcohol. Harry had helped Cisco refine the formula and it seemed to be working significantly better than at his last bachelor party.

“Of woman!” Ralph lifted his hand in exaggerated frustration. “What’s your type of girl, Allen?” He raised the glass to his lips and drank half of it in one swallow.

“Ah” Barry smiled and shrugged his shoulders, “I guess I have to say my type, is Iris.”

Joe chuckled into his glass and nodded his head, as if he knew Barry would say just that. Harry, on the opposite side, cupped his hands and booed Barry’s answer. With Ralph now looking as if he were rapidly succumbing to unconsciousness, Cisco was the tie-breaker.

“Barry,” he began, “you’re my best friend.”

Barry beamed at him and grabbed Joe’s knee to balance himself, before looking back at Cisco with happy, if unfocused, eyes. “You’re my best friend too.”

“You know I love that mushy romance stuff,” Cisco continued, his tone earnest, “and I can’t wait for you and the love of your life to live in happily wedded bliss forever. But!” He punctuated his exclamation with a sweep of his beer bottle through the air. “I have to admit  Harry’s obnoxious booing has a point.”

“Thank you.” Harry nodded in solemn acknowledgement of his rightness.

“I’m sorry man, we gotta exclude Iris. We all know your type is Iris because you’re about to marry Iris and for real Barry, you’ve been kinda thirsty for her for like, ever.”

“Hey!” Joe paused in refilling Harry’s glass to jerk his head up at Cisco. “Watch yourself.”

Harry took the bottle from Joe as Cisco tried to explain what he meant. He let the amber liquid topple downwards, filling the small glass up past its recommended volume until it was almost level at the lip. He set the bottle down carefully and sipped at his drink so that he wouldn't slosh the alcohol down his new sweater.

Ralph sat up suddenly, surprising everyone and causing Harry to immediately fail at keeping his clothes bourbon-free. He swore and put his glass down, trying in vain to scrub the spreading stain away with his hand. When he looked up everyone was draining their drinks (except for Ralph who had fallen directly back onto the couch and was now snoring loudly). Harry quickly reached for his glass but it was a doomed attempt. He’d lost the round and it was his turn to answer the question.

“Well how about it Harry?” Cisco turned to face him. “What’s your type?”

Like hell Harry was going to make it that easy on them.

“Allen didn’t answer the question, weren’t we all just saying that Allen didn’t answer the question?”

“I wasn’t.” Joe shook his head.

“Yeah, I don’t remember that either.” Cisco said, grin on his face.

“I don’t really remember what we’re doing, I’m just happy to be here with all you guys.” Barry brought the men closest to him into a drunken half-hug.

Cisco extricated himself as Harry mouthed ‘ _traitor’_ at him. Cisco pretended not to see, too busy pushing a wayward strand of hair behind his ear. Harry curled his fingers into the carpet to stop himself from touching Cisco’s face and helping him.

“Then I think we should hear what Ramon has to say. You’ve only had to answer one question this whole game.”

Cisco acknowledged the point like it was compliment, puffing out his chest with a smug look on his face.

“That’s because I know how to drain a glass better than all you suckers.”

“That’s not something to be proud of.”

“Mmm, agree to disagree loser.”

Harry opened his mouth, partly in an effort to retort and partly from simple indignation, but he was interrupted by Joe.

“Just answer the question, man. I’ve been listening to you two bickering like an old married couple all night.”

Cisco and Harry both froze, eyes still locked on each other. Cisco gave a little shake of his head to reassure him, but Harry didn’t feel particularly reassured. He shifted his knee away from where it had been drifting dangerously close to Cisco’s.

“Yeah come on Harry, what’s your hype? Type? Skype? That’s not right-” Barry flickered for a moment and suddenly he was holding a tub of hummus and a loaf of bread in his hands, scooping out its insides as he smiled at them all. There was a crash from the kitchen. “That’s probably nothing.” Barry said cheerily, if not convincingly.

Harry growled out a sigh. He should have known fraternizing with colleagues outside of work was a mistake. Granted, it had taken a few years for it to become a problem now, and he’d done more than fraternize with some of them. He kept his eyes on the carpet, and away from Cisco as he answered.

“Alright,” Harry barked out, ungracious as ever in defeat, “I guess I would have to say my _type,_ ” he stressed the word, pouring his dissatisfaction with the question into those four letters, “is smart.”

Joe smiled and scratched his goatee. “I was halfway between thinking you were gonna say something like math genius, or you were going to surprise us all by saying you were looking for someone who knits and bakes.”

“I mean- I wouldn’t say no to baking.” Harry said. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cisco arch his brows and purse his lips like maybe he was considering it. “But I wasn’t finished. Smart obviously, but also with a bit of humour. I know I’m not the easiest guy to get along with-”

The other three conscious members of the party snorted in unison. Harry waved them off contemptuously.

“-but I like someone funny, someone that can turn a stressful situation into an easier one and a good situation into a better one.” He was accidentally getting into a groove, the bourbon had finally reached his head and was making the words spill from his lips without his permission.

“I like someone with opinions, with a point of view. I’ve spent my whole career with people who just accept what I tell them because I’m some genius, or their boss, but it bores the hell out of me. That’s why Jesse turned out like she did, or at least I hope that’s part of the reason why. She’s out there, running around, saving lives, turning her dad away, no matter what anyone says, because she knows what’s best for her team.”

Harry paused, glaring into his drink.

“She’s wrong, of course, my way would have been way more efficient and wouldn’t’ve-” He stopped himself, Jesse’s face swimming into view. He knew (now that he’d had some time and a little friendly advice) that his frustration was just his protective instinct, and his anger was just hurt. When Jesse turned him away it had felt like a rejection of him, not just his ideas. He had a thick skin, sometimes, but when it came to his daughter he was paper thin.

 “Not that I’m saying that you lot shouldn’t do what I say. You should, because I always know what I’m talking about. I just- I think people should have a drive. You can have all the brains in the world but if you’re not using them for something- then what’s the point? I care that people care. And when they call me out, I bite back. Most people can’t handle that, which is why I need someone who’ll stand their ground, who knows what they think and aren’t afraid to stick by it. Otherwise, you’ll trample all over them and you may as well not try to get close to anyone at all.”

He finished his impromptu monologue by abruptly swallowing what was left in his glass. The bourbon stung as it washed down his throat, but at least it masked the lasting aftertaste of sincerity on his tongue. He was going to need quite a bit more of that bottle to wash it away completely though. He reached for it, acutely aware of the silence that had fallen when he’d stopped talking. Damn it, this was why his policy was to avoid honesty in public.

Joe found his voice as Harry unscrewed the cap and poured another glass.

“And here I was thinking my answer was good just because it was better than Ralph’s.”

“That’s not hard, Detective, considering his answer basically amounted to the word ‘blondes’.”

“Euh, he said a few other things too that I’d just as soon forget.”

“Amen” Harry toasted him.

“So that’s what you’re looking for, hey Harry? Smart, funny and opinionated, yeah you could do worse than that.” Joe cocked his head, curiously. “So you don’t care at all what a person looks like? You don’t have like a _type_ type?”

Harry stared at him blankly. “Why would I?” He asked.

It was at that moment Barry sneezed so hard he flew back into the TV cabinet, sending the whole thing wobbling precariously, startling them all out of the drowsy reverie they’d fallen into. Joe looked at his watch, then pulled himself to his feet. Harry admired the strength of willpower it took.

“Come on Bear, let’s get you to bed.”

“Oh but I’m not even tired.” Barry protested weakly, letting Joe guide him upwards.

“Good, then you can help me drag Ralph into the spare bedroom.”

They all looked at Ralph, now barely moving. In silence, they watched him and breathed a collective sigh of relief when he let out a loud sniffle and batted at his nose with his hand. They maneuvered him off the sofa, and Joe and Barry each got an arm around him before making their way up the stairs.

“Happy Bachelor Party Barry!” Cisco called out as they retreated. “Hope round two made up for the last one.”

Barry spun around, almost dropping Ralph in the process. Joe grunted as Ralph’s weight fell on him. “I love you guys.” He seemed about to say more before remembering what he was supposed to be doing and grabbing Ralph around the waist again.

“I’ve had a great night.” He told Joe happily as they disappeared up the staircase, leaving Harry and Cisco alone to watch Ralph’s legs droop and remain in view for far longer than they should have.

“What did you give him?” Cisco asked, gesturing to the couch Ralph had been passed out on.

Harry paused, too long. “…water.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Harry agreed. He didn’t say anything else until he felt Cisco’s eyes on him. Harry’s shoulders raised in an automatically defensive posture. “I checked the measurements.”

“The measurements? What the hell did you do, poison him?” Cisco sounded more than a little alarmed.

“He’s fine.” Harry grimaced involuntarily as he dismissed Cisco’s worry. “I gave him some of Barry’s alcohol. Don’t give me that look. I told you I checked the measurements. With his enhanced metabolism and meta-genes it’s not going to do more than just knock him out for a couple hours. Several hours. About fourteen, if my math is correct.” It was.

“Is that what you were asking Caitlin about yesterday when I walked in and you basically leapt to the other end of the room? Is that why you helped me refine the formula?”

“No, that’s- I didn’t _leap_ anywhere,” Harry spluttered, “and that’s not why I helped. I just wanted to kill two birds with one stone; get Barry drunk for his second bachelor party, and get Ralph drunker so he wouldn’t ruin Barry’s second bachelor party. What was I supposed to do, just listen to him talk all night? You saw the ridiculous games he was trying to get us to play. Besides, last time he was allowed to run rampant over a social event he got you thrown in prison.”

Cisco’s eyebrows raised. “Just me, huh? I seem to remember there being a few other people in that cell with me.”

Harry pressed his lips together in mock recollection. He shook his head. “I don't remember that.”

“You have perfect recall.” Cisco grinned.

“Then something must have been distracting me.”

Another loose strand of hair had made its way onto Cisco’s forehead and this time Harry didn’t need to thread his fingers into the rug to keep himself from tucking it gently back behind his ear. Cisco shuffled closer, bracing his back on the wall and stretching out his legs just like Harry had done. He let his foot fall and land lightly against Harry’s, leaving it sitting there instead of moving it swiftly away the way they had the rest of the night.

“You were pretty quiet,” Harry spoke into his glass. “During the game.” He said, although they both knew he only meant during Harry’s answer.

There was a pause and Harry had to force himself not to immediately read a multitude of warning signs into that pause. He’d forgotten how nerve-wracking just talking to someone could be when you actually cared about the outcome, and the feelings of the person on the other side of the conversation.

Cisco laughed softly and Harry could breathe again.

“I was just taking notes, buddy. Although I think I’m pretty much in the clear given how you described me.”

“Described you?”

“Yeah,” Cisco said, like it was obvious, “who else would you be talking about?”

Harry’s chest constricted. He knew exactly who he’d been talking about and he also knew he wasn’t ready to unravel all that to Cisco yet. It’d take more than a night of bourbon to make that happen.

It turned out Harry didn’t have to say anything for Cisco to know what he meant. When he spoke again, it was in a tentative tone, like he was even afraid to put it out there.

“Your wife.”

No two words could have sliced Harry deeper.

“She-” was as far as he got before he had to snap his mouth shut again. He drew in a deep breath through his nostrils, a familiar stinging making its way around his head and down his back. He shook his head, eyes scrunched tightly for just a second before opening them again and swallowing it all back.

They were quiet again and Harry watched as Cisco’s foot moved slowly back and forth against his, either in purposeful comfort or unconscious familiarity. Either way, Harry was grateful for it.

Cisco was wearing vibrantly coloured Spiderman-print socks that stood out, even in the dim living room light, against Harry’s black shoes. Underneath the black leather Harry had on a pair of x-men socks in the gaudy yellow and blue of the original costumes. He’d stolen them from the basket last time Cisco had done a load of washing and, even though he couldn’t see them now, the knowledge that they were there and that they were Cisco’s made him feel some way he couldn’t pin down. It had been so long since he’d opened himself up to anyone, even a little, that he no longer had words for the things he’d forgotten how to feel.

 Cisco broke the silence.

“So I guess this means you actually like it when I argue with you. Man, didn’t see that one coming, and you seemed like such a non-confrontational guy.”

Harry laughed, but it scraped against his throat on the way out, turning it into a sharp cough. He thumped his chest, and Cisco put a hand on his back, rubbing it in soft circles.

“I don’t _like_ it.” He argued, through his coughing fit. “You shouldn’t argue with me because I’m always right.”

“Sure. You’re kidding yourself if you think I’m not going to be using all this information against you, by the way.”

Harry cast his eyes dramatically towards the ceiling. “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

“You absolutely have,” Cisco said, in mock seriousness, dragging Harry’s gaze back down to his ridiculous smile. “Because I’m planning on only using this newfound knowledge for evil.”

As if he could. As if Cisco could be evil even if he tried. He wasn’t like Harry, he didn’t have a coldness waiting somewhere inside him, ready to wrap around his heart on a moment’s notice. To let him do the things that others couldn’t. That others shouldn’t. That he wouldn’t let others do. The more time Harry spent with Cisco, the further away that coldness seemed. Like he was the sun melting Harry’s icy walls with every smile, hell, every goddamn glance even, that he threw Harry’s way.

His hand was still warm on Harry’s back and when Harry leant in to kiss him, Cisco’s fingers reflexively bunched into his sweater, dragging him closer. Harry obliged, leaning over Cisco, reaching over to rest his hand on his other side, trapping Cisco beneath him. He was still smiling through their kisses, and it only drove Harry on, pressing his body against Cisco’s.

Cisco’s hand moved from his back, into his hair, guiding Harry as he explored Cisco’s mouth and jaw and throat. Harry kissed the soft skin at the base of Cisco’s ear, where his jaw met his neck and Cisco’s hand flexed, tightening his grip on Harry’s hair and pulling slightly. Harry groaned, and immediately did it again, seeking out the same spot and pressing his lips to it, his kisses feverish.

Every thought he’d had previously, vanished from his head. All his drunken mind could think about was that every nerve in his body was buzzing, and everywhere he touched Cisco sent tremors running through him. Cisco’s hand snaked around to Harry’s hip, the other still buried in his hair, his only plan seeming to be getting under Harry’s sweater to touch bare skin. He very much succeeded and Harry shivered at his cold palm, but he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t.

If Cisco was like the sun, then Harry was Mercury, orbiting him as closely as he could, burning in his rays, knowing that they would never fully warm the deepest craters on his surface, but not caring all that much, anymore. And the nearer he moved towards Cisco, the further he moved away from Earth. Well, his Earth at least.  

Bourbon may have dulled Harry’s ability to filter his words, but it had definitely improved his skill with metaphors. He felt like he could write poetry. He wouldn’t. But he could. Probably.

His lips were on Cisco’s again and he kissed him deeply, barely acknowledging the need to breath, and stuffing as much resentment as he could into each respiration. Cisco’s hands were all over him and he could have stayed in that moment forever.

“Alright, I think they’re probably going to live to tomorr- woah, sorry to interrupt.”

Or not.

The pair broke apart, breathing too hard and trying to pretend they weren’t. They both offered up a smattering of an explanation, though neither had prepared a way to finish the sentences they begun. Their protestations turned out to be unnecessary as Joe raised his hands and laughed.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I don’t need to know the details, I’ve seen people do crazier things when drunk.”

Harry and Cisco exchanged a glance. Joe continued.

“Back when I was a uniform I saw one of the guys in my unit strip down naked and climb a water tower to prove-” Joe stopped himself, realizing that they weren’t really listening. His smile froze in place and he held out a finger, gesturing between Harry and Cisco. “This- this wasn’t just some crazy, one-time, drunk thing was it?”   

Joe looked at Cisco, Cisco looked at Harry, Harry groaned inwardly. If it were up to him, and it largely had been up to this point, no-one would know anything about what he did in his personal life, beyond the basics. Cisco had agreed to keep the whole “seeing each other” thing under wraps until Harry was ready to let people know about it, even though neither of them knew when exactly that would be. He just, didn’t like people knowing too much about him. Besides, he couldn’t have faced it if they’d told everyone and Cisco had then decided to break up with him. Cisco didn’t know about that last part but it had definitely wormed its way into Harry’s considerations.

Harry was fine with keeping secrets, and he was fine with lying. One thing he was not fine with, was making Cisco lie to his friends, for him.

“No.” Was Harry’s perfunctory response to Joe’s question.

Joe raised an eyebrow. “How long has this been going on?”

“Since Harry came back from Earth-2.” Cisco found his voice again, and took his cue from Harry to tell Joe the truth. This wasn’t the worst way the secret could break, certainly if Harry was asked which person in Central City he trusted the most, Detective West would be very high on his list.

Joe nodded, taking in this new information.

“Hey Cisco, could you give me and Harry a minute? Go get yourself some water, there’s some cheesecake left in the fridge too, Grandma Esther’s recipe.” Joe’s smile hadn’t changed, but now it seemed more threatening than his usual pleasant demeanor.

Cisco stood, and Harry followed him, offering a steadying hand as Cisco wobbled to his feet. He was halfway to the kitchen, shoes in hand, when he spun on his heel, fingers pointed towards Joe.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay here? I feel like maybe I could be more useful  _in here._ ”

“Not asking, Cisco.” Joe didn’t even look at him, his eyes were fixed on Harry.

“Got it.” He threw his thumbs up and completed his spin, hurrying into the kitchen.

Joe stood, hands on his hips and sized Harry up. Without thinking, Harry emulated his position.

“Harry.”

“Detective.”

“How long have we known each other now?”

Harry paused a moment, calculating. “Approximately seven hundred and sixty eight days, twelve hours and,” he stole a glance at his watch and waited for the number to tick over, “thirty-six minutes.”

A wry amusement tugged at Joe’s mouth.

“Yeah, soon as I asked the question I knew it was going to be some long-winded shit like that. It’s been about two years.”

“Well, it’s been exactly-” Harry’s head tilted as he began to repeat himself to correct Joe. Joe stopped him with one raised hand.

“I don’t care.”

“Okay.”

“Do you remember when we first met?”

“Yeah, you tried to shoot me.” Harry’s answer was meant to be facetious, but as Joe levelled a long look at him he realized it was exactly the one Joe had been looking for. Involuntarily, Harry checked for firearms on Joe’s person, unsure if he was being threatened.

“I did think we’d moved past that point, Joe.” He gestured between them, a little more frantically than he would have liked. “I had considered us closer to- to friends, than people who- shoot each other.”

Joe’s bearing was unfailingly cool and collected, which just put Harry further on edge.

“I would consider us friends, Harry.”

“Good-” Harry was silenced with a finger, again. He huffed in confused frustration.

“That doesn’t mean, if your mid-life crisis ass does anything that would break that boy’s heart, that I can’t remember how I felt in that first meeting again. In the heat of the moment I might forget just which Wells you are, and who knows what happens then.”

“Mid-life crisis- what, what’re you-” Harry stammered, before gasping and jabbing his finger at Joe accusingly. “Are you giving me the ‘Dad Talk’?”

His sudden indignance  put Joe on the back foot.

Harry turned the finger back on himself, poking at his chest, a little too hard but he could worry about that later. “Because I invented the ‘Dad Talk’, Detective.”

Joe glanced up at the staircase and made a motion to quiet down, clearly concerned about waking Barry. Harry wondered how loud his voice had been. He lowered it to a vehement hiss.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to dad at me, and you threatened to shoot me, you’re trying to cop at me as well. You’re trying to dad-cop me.”

Joe frowned incredulously and Harry shook his head in apology. He was only glad Cisco hadn’t been in the room for that unfortunate off the cuff label.   

“Cisco’s a good guy. One of the best. And if his family won’t recognise that, yeah, I’m gonna jump in here and be that for him.” Joe lifted his head, daring Harry to argue. For once in his life, Harry didn’t want to argue. He inclined his head in silent agreement.

“Now I’ve seen that boy go through heartbreak before, and I don’t want to see it again. When he puts his heart into something, he doesn’t do things halfway, so I’m pretty sure it wasn’t his idea to keep this thing from his friends, which makes me look at you.”

Damn he was a good Detective. Harry’s appreciation of his skills was tempered by the unease that gripped his chest. His pulse began to race as he determined just how much he was prepared to reveal. He didn’t exactly feel like unloading his specific combination of neuroses onto Detective West right now.

“It’s- we- this is relatively new.”

Joe raised an eyebrow at him.

“Relatively,” Harry stressed again, “and we didn’t want to do anything that could make things weird at the wedding.”

“At the wedding?” Joe hadn’t been expecting that.

“..Yep.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, that had been something that he and Cisco had discussed, but it definitely had not been in Harry’s top considerations. For one thing, he knew that if anything had gone wrong with him and Cisco before the wedding he probably would have jumped back to his Earth and sent a gift in his stead, maybe.

Joe looked at him for a long moment, but his expression softened a little.

“Cisco said this had been going on since you got back from Earth-2?”

 Harry powered through his initial instinct to refuse to reveal any personal information and nodded. “It was something we- well we hadn’t exactly talked about it, but when I decided to stay on this Earth again- it was- part of it was because-” he waved his hand in the air as if that was any sort of communicable end to a sentence.

Luckily, Joe understood.

“Part of the reason you stayed was to be with Cisco. Yeah, should’ve guessed.”

“What?”

“You’re not exactly a master of masking your feelings, Harry.”

Harry probably shouldn’t have been as offended at that statement as he was. He was about to protest that, actually, he’d managed to betray them all without them suspecting him when he siphoned off Barry’s speed to Zoom, so how was that for masking his feelings? When luckily Joe continued, saving him from making that unfortunate boast.

“You’re practically glued to Cisco’s side whenever we’re all together, and I don’t remember the last time you actively tried to hang out outside of work with one of us that wasn’t Cisco.”

Harry wracked his brain for just one example that he’d instigated, and the closest he could come up with was the time he had accidentally joined Barry and Iris at the movie theatre.

They’d recognized him, even in his cap and sunglasses, and Barry had, out of some innate and inexplicable need to be friendly, invited him to sit with the couple. Harry and Iris had spent half the movie, which turned out to be far more of a romantic comedy than the trailer would have suggested, sitting next to each other and stiffly trying to pretend they weren’t. When Barry had left for more popcorn, Harry had turned to Iris and whispered, “I’m gonna-” with a gesture to a different row of seats. He was met with a hasty “yep” and a thumbs up in understanding. It was one of the most enjoyable conversations of Harry’s life. He made a mental note to become better friends with Iris, at least at work.

Joe could see that Harry had reluctantly understood what he was saying.

“Look, I think you two could be very good for each other. If you ever manage to stop bickering for five seconds altogether. I just want to make sure you both know what you’re getting into, and that you’re not being stupid about it.”

“He’s- better than me.” That hadn’t been how Harry had intended to finish the sentence, and if the night hadn’t gone how it had, he doubted he would have ever said it like that. It wasn’t an answer to Joe’s concern, but it seemed to make as much of an impression on Joe hearing it as it had on Harry saying it.

“Alright, man.” Joe offered his hand and Harry shook it. Joe didn’t let go, and Harry may have imagined his grip getting tighter. “I’m happy for you, but don’t mess it up. Cisco, you can come back now. I think you could be great together, but if you hurt him, I will do everything in my power to hunt you to the ends of this Earth and the rest.”

 Cisco came walking back through the dining room and Joe finally released Harry’s hand.

“You guys need a place to stay tonight, or you got a way home?”

“Already called someone,” Cisco said, waving his phone, “well not _called_ because talking to other human beings is an unceasing nightmare-”

That, Harry could agree with.

“-but I pressed a bunch of buttons and now we’ve got a ride coming.”

“Cool, then this old man’s going to bed. Cisco, thanks for setting up this whole second party thing. I know Barry really appreciated it.”

“Nah Joe, of course. Thanks for getting all those pictures of baby Barry to me for the slideshow, especially that one after his science project burnt his eyebrows off.” Cisco sighed happily, remembering the photograph.

Joe chuckled. “Any time, man.”

The two shared a friendly hug, and then Joe turned to Harry who nearly took a pre-emptive step back. He flexed his hand, still a little sore from Joe’s firm handshake, and offered him a brief wave as a farewell, instead.

“Alright, you know where the key is, lock up when you leave, okay? ‘Night boys.”

“Give my regards to D.A. Cecille Horton.”

Joe paused on his way up the stairs and looked back at Harry with a tired half-smile. “Mind if I word it a little differently?”

“Why?”

“Goodnight Joe,” Cisco said, grabbing Harry’s arm. “Come on, let’s wait outside.”

The night air was bracing, and shocked Harry more into sobriety than even his talk with Joe had. He waited, hands in his pockets as Cisco found the spare key and locked the door behind them.

“So what did Joe have to say?” Cisco asked as they made their way over to the S.T.A.R Labs van they had driven to the house that night. They’d come collect it in the morning.

Harry looked Cisco in the eye, a stern expression on his face.

“I’m not an easy man to frighten, Ramon. I’ve been in a lot of life-threatening situations, hell I faced down Gorilla Grodd by myself.”

“You got kidnapped.”

“Not the point.”

Cisco laughed, his breath condensing into a cloud in front of him.

“I’m not scared of many things, but if I were, it’d be a safe bet to be scared of Detective Joe West.”

“That bad, huh?” Cisco grinned.

Harry huffed out a breath of agreement. “Told me he’d hunt me down if I ever hurt you. I believe him.”

“Well, what else can you expect from a dad-cop?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at Cisco, who was only half-illuminated by the nearest street lamp.

“How much did you hear?”

“Not much after that. No really,” he protested in answer to Harry’s incredulous look. “I fully intended to eavesdrop but then I actually went and ate some of Grandma Esther’s cheesecake, and let me tell you, you can’t hear anything after a few bites of that.”

Harry didn’t know what that meant, but he’d long since learned not to question the accomplishments of Grandma Esther.

“I guess it doesn’t matter. For one thing, I can definitely defend myself against Joe. I have a decent level of combat proficiency, and also a very big gun. For another thing, he was right.”

“Did you just say someone else was right?” Cisco asked in astonishment.

“Yes, he was- I didn’t say I wasn’t right, just that he was also right. We were both right together- in different, it doesn’t matter.” Harry flexed his hand again. “Look, you know I’m not good at talking about…feelings.” He forced the last word out in a growl.

Cisco nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I think this was the most I’ve ever heard you talk about yourself, without showing off, since I’ve known you. You got mad at Ralph the other day when he asked what was on your sandwich.”

“Why did he need to know?”

“I told you he was just making small talk, he’s got this crazy idea that you don’t like him.”

Harry was silent, confirming Ralph’s hypothesis.

“But I get it, Harry, it’s hard for you to talk about what’s going on inside. It’s fine, I’m cool with it.”

“Yeah, but it’s not, just about me.” There was a note of frustration creeping into his voice, but it wasn’t with Cisco, it was with himself. “When you asked me, before, about my _type_ , for a second there my mind went totally blank. Which is not something that ever happens to me.”

“Brag, but alright.”

“And it was because, I don’t- I don’t get, I don’t know what you’d call it; attracted to, or- or amorous feelings for-, you know, very often. It doesn’t happen a lot, but it did happen with you and for some, inexplicable, reason you felt the same, so at the moment for all intents and purposes, my type, is you.”

Cisco took a deep breath, seemingly not sure what to say.

“And it’s not fair to you, to make you suffer for my,” he searched for the right word, and couldn’t quite find it, “idiosyncrasies. So, whenever you’re ready we can make this, official, and tell- people.”

As hard as it had been for him to say, the look on Cisco’s face made it easy. He got closer to Harry, hand absently adjusting the collar of his sweater.

“You sure?” He asked, giving Harry an out if he wanted to take it. He didn’t.

He looked down at Cisco. “Yeah, I think I’m ready for my round two at, you know,” he averted his eyes, he couldn’t help it; he still had a way to go, “romance.”

Cisco waited for Harry to meet his eye again before he grabbed Harry’s collar and pulled him into a kiss. Harry stumbled and had to brace his hand against the van to avoid toppling onto Cisco. They made out by the van a while, hands travelling over each other in the dark, until Harry felt much less embarrassed by himself. He broke away, forearms resting on Cisco’s tiny shoulders.

“But only your friends.”

“Our friends, Harry.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Only our friends then, I don’t need the whole town knowing my business.”

“You’re a real piece of work.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course you’d take that as a compliment. Are you going to tell Jen?” Cisco asked, with a sly smile.

“Am I going to tell Jen, the manager of my local Big Belly Burger, about our relationship?”

Cisco quirked an eyebrow.

“Of course I am. She knows me better than anyone. Besides, I think she guessed weeks ago, she’s very perceptive.”

“You have a problem with that place.”

“I can quit anytime I want.”

Cisco groaned dramatically. “What have I gotten myself into?”

Harry leaned down and kissed him again to halt his theatrical sarcasm.

“For the record,” Cisco said, between kisses, “my type absolutely includes a big gun and the ability to kick major ass.”

“Like Ripley.”

Cisco pulled back an inch, his face deadly serious. “Exactly like Ripley.”

“Or,” Harry tried to backtrack, “I mean, John McClane also does the dirty tank top and the big gun and the air shafts so maybe it’s more-”

 “John McClane doesn’t have a spaceship.” Cisco replied, in a tone that suggested this statement ended the debate.  

Harry kissed him again. “Ripley it is.”

“You’re the Ellen Ripley to my Alien, Harry.”

He squinted at Cisco. “I really think you need to watch that film again if that’s what you took away from it.”

They stayed like that, embracing in the darkness a while longer, until Cisco had to speak again.

“She wears a t-shirt though.”

“What?”

“You said she and McClane both wear dirty tank tops, she wears a t-shirt.”

Harry frowned, trying to figure out if Cisco was making a joke or not. At length, he decided he wasn’t and whispered disbelievingly, “Alien 3.”

Cisco’s eyes went wide and he stepped away from Harry. With his back against the van he looked up at the stars.

“What have I become?” He asked them.

“How could you forget Alien 3?” Harry was just as disappointed in Cisco as Cisco was in himself.

Cisco tried to defend himself. “Because it’s not as good as Aliens.”

“Which itself isn’t as good as Alien.”

“Uh,” Cisco put his hands up in protest, “beg to differ.”

Harry grimaced. “You’re kidding me. A sequel, Ramon?”

“Wrath of Khan.”

“Point taken.” Harry conceded.

“I like a rag-tag team better than a lone hero. So sue me.”

Harry opened his mouth to argue but stopped when Cisco pointed at the road.

“Car’s here.”

They halted in their very important debate as the car made its way down the street, looking for the right house number.

“Did I mention my type is also sweet and forgiving?” Cisco muttered as it approached.

“Out of luck there, you’d need a different boyfriend for that.”

“Boyfriend, hey?” Cisco shot him a look as he waved at the driver.

Harry walked around to the other side of the car. “Shut up.”

“Hey, you said it, not me.”

“Okay, I take it all back. Wipe this night from your memory.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Cisco gave the driver his address, and when the car started, the late hour seemed to hit them both at the same time. Harry yawned, and saw Cisco do the same. Within moments, Cisco had his head on Harry’s shoulder, eyes closed and breathing conspicuously deeply. Harry stilled for a second before he got a hold of himself and remembered what he’d just promised to Cisco. Without thinking any more about it, which was in itself a huge feat, Harry put his arm around Cisco and pulled him closer.

It didn’t really matter what happened now. Tonight he would put Cisco to bed, and tomorrow, and every day after that, Harry would wake up and do everything in his power to deserve him.


End file.
